Chapter 19

NIPPED IN THE BUD

"Hear that, Fred?"

Of course it was foolish of Colon to ask such a question as this of his companion. That racket was enough to awaken the soundest sleeper. But then he was so excited he just felt that he had to say something.

Fred threw his blanket aside. Then he reached out for the lantern, and his handy match-safe, so that they could get some light on the subject.

As soon as this little task had been accomplished, he and Colon started for the door full-tilt. Opening this, they passed out.

The noise of falling tinpans had by now entirely ceased. Of course the artful Colon had piled up all the waste cans he could find, so that if they were toppled over they would make considerable racket. Once upon a time there had been some sort of manufactory connected with the shed; and back of it Colon had discovered a regular mine of what he wanted in the way of rusty cans, large enough to suit his purpose, and make all the noise heart could wish.

"Look! I got one!"

Colon pointed excitedly as he said this, and as Fred looked he burst out into a loud laugh. Evidently Colon's trap had worked. A boy was dangling by the heels, held up in the air by the loop of a rope, which seemed to pass over a post connected with the building, and then extend to the hogshead, partly filled with stones, and which was now half way down the beach, the rope taut, and holding the victim in his elevated position.

"It's Conrad Jimmerson!" exclaimed Colon, as they arrived close to the boy, who was kicking furiously, and groaning dismally.

His coat hung down over his head in such fashion that he could not see what was going on; Colon must have recognized him by his clothes, or through some boyish instinct.

"Oh! get me down, quick!" moaned the trapped prowler. "All the blood's agoin' to my head, and I'll be a dead one soon! Please cut me down, fellers! I won't run!"

"I'm right sure you won't," remarked Colon, drily; "but while I've got you held up so neat, I might as well make it doubly certain."

With, that he secured the other flourishing leg so that when Conrad was lowered to the ground he could not move without their permission.

"Give us a hand here, Fred, and we'll get him out of the trap," remarked the proud inventor of the running-barrel game. "You see, he stepped right up on this box, just as I figured, and touched the trigger. With that he started the heavy barrel rolling down-grade; and the loop caught him by one leg, instead of both, as I meant it should."

"But what was all the fierce noise that woke us up?" asked Fred, as he assisted Colon to take the victim down, by dragging in on the rope, so as to slacken the loop around the leg of the trapped one.

"Oh! shucks! just a pile of tin cans I built up, to be knocked over when the barrel got to turning around. You see, I was a little afraid that we mightn't hear when the trap was sprung, and I wouldn't want to miss this funny sight for anything. Here, you are, Conrad; lie there now, till we can drag you inside the house."

The boy was evidently very much frightened. He had thought his ankle in the grasp of some unseen giant, when the loop tightened, and snatched him upwards. No wonder he trembled and wheezed as he cowered there.

"We'd better go in right now, then," remarked Fred. "Some of that crowd might take a notion to come back and see what has happened to Conrad. Take hold of him on that side, Colon, while I look after this one."

"Oh! what you a-goin' to do with me?" queried the prisoner. "I haven't done a single thing, fellers, cross my heart if I did. Just wanted to see if anybody was a-sleepin' in the old shed. Buck told me to be sure and not hurt the boat. He says that its bad enough because we lost ours, without anything a-happenin' to yours. I wouldn't do a little thing, sure I wouldn't. Hope you believe me boys. Don't lick me! I got about all I ought to have already. I'm shiverin' to beat the band. Quit jerkin' me that way, Chris Colon; I ain't hurt you!"

"Oh! come along, you silly!" said the tall boy, who had a contempt for so great a sneak and coward as Conrad Jimmerson.

Fred closed and locked the door again after they had entered. The sound of the key being turned in the lock started the frightened boy into protesting again. He judged others by Buck's standard, and the bare thought of finding himself alone and a prisoner, in the power of those he would have injured, seemed to give him a case of the "trembles," as Colon called it.

"Now I want you to take a look into his pockets," the tall boy remarked.

Immediately he uttered a triumphant exclamation.

"See here, Fred, he had a whole lot of matches with him!" he called out. "Looks like he was ready for business, all right."

"Say, I always carry matches with me, and you know it, Chris Colon," protested the alarmed prisoner, vigorously.

"Perhaps you do, but never so many as these," Colon went on. "I kind of reckon you thought you'd have good need of 'em this night. But what're you carrying under your arm that way, Fred? Saw you step over, and pick somethin' up outside there. Find anything worth while; another feller's cap, maybe?"

"No, it was this," and Fred held an object up.

"What's that? Looks like a bundle of old rags!" remarked Colon, quickly; while the prisoner gasped and shivered worse than ever.

"There was something more; what do you think of this?" and for the second time Fred elevated his hand, containing an object that made Colon utter a cry of rage.

"A bottle!" he ejaculated. "What's in it, Fred? Three to one I c'n guess. Kerosene!"

"That's just what it is," returned the other, gravely. "Some fellows came here to-night prepared to throw this stuff over one end of the old shed, and start a fire going. Perhaps they even meant to break in, and scatter the oil over the boat, so nothing could save it, once the fire got started. We've nipped as mean a little game in the bud as I ever heard about."

Colon turned on the prisoner with a black face, and gritting teeth.

"Who set you on to this thing, Jimmerson?" he demanded. "You never thought of it by yourself, because you haven't got the brains. Tell me now, wasn't it Buck Lemington who got you to come here, and try to set the shed afire?"

Conrad tried to look defiant, but somehow he lacked the spirit. He saw those two frowning lads on either side of him, as he stood there leaning against the wall of the boathouse, his ankles tied with the rope; and he began to weaken.

"I never would a' thought of coming here to spy if it wasn't for----" he had just started to say, when there came a loud whistle, twice repeated, from outside, which must have been recognized by the fellow as a terrible threat of what would happen to him if he opened his lips to betray his cronies; for he shivered as if he had been showered with ice water, nor could they influence him after that, either by threats or promises, to say another word.

Fear of what Buck would do seemed to have a greater influence over him than the possibility of punishment because of what he had tried to do. One was sure, while the other might be set down as only a chance.

Besides, perhaps the fellow began to realize that Fred and Colon really could not prove that he had been carrying that bundle of old rags, as well as the bottle containing the kerosene. No court would decide that because they had been found there on the ground, he had brought them.

Fred understood this and it was what made him say presently:

"Well, we might as well let this fellow loose, Colon. After all, the proof, if there is any, must rest in these rags and this bottle. If we can find out just where they came from, we'll be satisfied in our own minds whom we have to thank for this midnight alarm."

"Just as if there could be any doubt about it!" scoffed Colon. "Didn't we hear that whistle, and don't I know who gave it? Buck carries a little silver whistle and likes to communicate with his bunch that way. They've got a regular code, I've heard tell. And didn't you notice how quick Conrad, here, buttoned up his lips when he heard that order to keep mum?"

"Another night," said Fred, threateningly, "we'll have a shotgun handy; and it'll go hard with prowlers, if we get a sight of them. Unfasten his legs, Colon, and then show him the door."

The prisoner seemed to regain a little of his lost courage upon finding that they did not mean to hurt him any.

"And you just stop pinching me when you do untie this rope, Chris Colon," said Conrad. "I want you to know you don't own the earth. A feller what lives in Riverport all his life ought to have the right to walk along the river here without having tricks played on him, and bein' yanked head-down up in the air. You'll pay for your fun yet, see if you don't, Chris Colon."

"Shut up!" roared the exasperated Colon, shaking the other, whom he was now escorting to the door, with the intention of ejecting him, just as Fred had directed. "You ought to be tarred and feathered, if you got your dues. Like to see our boat go up in smoke; would you? And Buck aims to keep us from using the river, just because he was foolish enough as to smash his own boat? You tell him to come himself the next time. We'll be glad to see him; and perhaps he might meet with a surprise worse than the one I sprung on you, Conrad. Now don't forget to tell him; you hear me!"

Colon had managed to get the door open while speaking. Then he gave the other a little push, as if to start him going. Conrad somehow seemed to suspect what was coming, for he tried to hug close to the tall boy, who, however, gave him a shove. So Conrad, thinking he had a chance, made a bolt; but that long leg of Colon shot out, and caught him fairly and squarely, sending him flying.

The boy who was thus thrown out picked himself up, and thinking he heard his enemy coming toward him, fled into the darkness, howling in mingled pain and fear.

Colon, laughing heartily, closed and fastened the door, after which he rejoined his watch-mate, to see out the balance of the eventful night in Fred's company.